


broke my own heart so you don't have to

by takethebreadsticksandRUN



Series: TMA Hurt/Comfort Week 2020 [3]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor panic attack, TMAHCWeek2020, blatant overuse of hyphens, correct nobody in the entire freaking show, day four prompt sorry it's late, gently pats martin's head, guess who has no communication skills?, jon is a supportive boyfriend, let martin have nice things 2020, this baby can fit so much anxiety in it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:46:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26156734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takethebreadsticksandRUN/pseuds/takethebreadsticksandRUN
Summary: Written for TMAHCWeek 2020, day four prompt. Touch-starved-fragile-pain (or something like that)I really loved you, you know.He didn’t deserve this. He couldn’t say those words in good conscience, knowing the pain he had caused, the hurt within him that seemed to swallow everyone he cared about.He almost wished the springs broke through the mattress, tearing through his shirt and into his skin, helping him to pay penance for a life he hadn’t wanted to live.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: TMA Hurt/Comfort Week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1894012
Comments: 27
Kudos: 127





	broke my own heart so you don't have to

**Author's Note:**

> meant to post this last night but i fell asleep instead. whoops! anyways i missed day three because that turned into a MONSTER of a fic that i'm still working on, keep an eye out if you would like i'll post it at the end of this week.  
> it's projecting onto martin hours lads! how much guilt can i give him? as it turns out, quite a lot.   
> tw: brief suicidal/self-harm thoughts, guilt. quite angsty in the beginning. i hope y'all enjoy, please comment and tell me what you think!  
> xxx

The first thing Martin thought when he walked into the small safehouse was _sharp._ The building was all rigid angles, wooden furniture, even the curve of the table was strangely rigid. It made sense, it being Daisy’s house and all. She didn’t exactly strike him as the type for modern design, but more on the side of practical and simplistic. It fits, logically, but the bed should have been softer than cement, at least. Only one mattress, a few pillows, and a single scratchy quilt.

_And Jon_ , but Martin isn’t allowed to think that. Not now, with springs digging into his back, his breath hitching every time he realizes for once, _he isn’t alone._

It hurts in a way that is so foreign to every other type of pain he had endured. So different from the worms burrowing into his skin, from learning that Sasha- _their_ Sasha, was gone, from watching his friends drift away and leave and _die_ one by one.

No, this is something unbearably soft. The Lonely was supposed to make this easier, to let him sit in the remnants of a thousand feelings without truly _feeling_ any of them. But somehow, by a strange twist of fate, he is in a cabin in Scotland, free of the physical Lonely but not quite out of its grasp, measuring his own fragile breathing against Jon’s, who is-

Right next to him. Shoulders turned away but palms almost brushing. Legs curled up to his chest, looking smaller than he ever had before. It’s doing strange things to Martin’s heart. He knows he isn’t allowed to have this, not after what he’s done. He abandoned them, why would he be forgiven now? Everything in the past year, forcing apart his relationships, trying to stay out of the mess Jon and Basira were trapped in, begging for forgetfulness and forgiveness at the same time.

He should have been there when Jon woke up. He should have been there with open arms and comfort in his words, ready to explain everything and find a way to plot their way out of Elias’ tangled web.

But he wasn’t. He was scheming with their known enemy while Jon struggled back into the Institute, confused and alone. So, so alone. You would think that after all this time, Martin would know how to be alone, how to help others to avoid it, but he is still completely useless. Good for nothing but to stand and watch, incapable of doing anything but staying silent.

Martin shifted slightly, the hard mattress grounding him. He could feel fingers of fog tracing his brow and it was almost a relief, knowing that he could leave, let Jon heal without the taint that was Martin Blackwood, staining everything like spilled ink.

Why was he here? Why was he playing this game, letting parts of him grow and blossom while cutting off others? He was just pretending, a traitor and an unwilling pawn.

Martin tasted salt. Blood on his lips, the sea lingering on his fingers, tears along his nose- no promises needed sealing, this was how he broke them.

_I really loved you, you know._

He didn’t deserve this. He couldn’t say those words in good conscience, knowing the pain he had caused, the hurt within him that seemed to swallow everyone he cared about.

He almost wished the springs broke through the mattress, tearing through his shirt and into his skin, helping him to pay penance for a life he hadn’t wanted to live.

_I’m sorry. I’m so sorry._

Apologies- what did they really do? How much could they undo? 

Ghosts haunted the edge of his vision, taunting him with their freedom. Reminding him that he was trapped with their memories and his own regrets.

Martin swallowed, trying to breathe, _breathe._ He felt so small in his body, watching the walls crumble around him, too weak to do anything but let in a trickle of oxygen that continued to keep his heart beating too loud.

He couldn’t sleep. Not like this. Not with the sharp bed, not with the cacophony of thoughts running across his eyelids every time he tried to drift off, certainly not with Jon lying right next to him.

He knew this was a bad idea.

_“I’ll just take the couch, Daisy only has one bed…”_

_“Absolutely not. I’ll take the couch, after all of the horrible furniture in the Forsaken I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve already done permanent damage.”_

_“But what about your back?”_

_“I’ll be fine.”_

_“No, you won’t. I couldn’t sleep well knowing you were in pain on that awful sofa.”_

_“Hm. We could take shifts…?”_

_“No, you take the bed.”_

_“We both could.”_

_“What?”_

_“I mean, if it won’t make you uncomfortable…we could share. It’s big enough.”_

_“…are you sure?”_

He should have said no. Should have curled up on that couch rather than stay here, so achingly close to breaking with _Jon_ sleeping next to him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

_I tried to push you away for your own good, you know. This was going to keep you safe- I’m a liability. A weak link. Let me have this one act of selflessness._

The floor wasn’t any softer than the bed, but at least it didn’t try to hide it. He stared at the wall in the living room, trying hard to ignore the faint crimson stains on the paper, trying too hard not to think about-

“M-martin?”

He stayed silent, praying to a god he didn’t believe in for- he didn’t know what. Strength to stay away, maybe. Martin knew that if Jon walked into the room, sleepy and yawning, still calling his name softly, he wouldn’t be able to keep his distance.

_It had been so long since he had been near somebody like this. So long since he had almost touched someone, barely refrained from reaching out for warmth and comfort like this._

He tried to force himself to think of the past, remember the damage he had done, to list all the reasons he wasn’t worthy of a relationship like this. Not that Jon had implied anything, but even a friendship was dangerous. For both of them. Trying to explain to himself why everything running through his mind was a bad idea.

“Martin?” His voice was urgent now (Martin wouldn’t let himself believe he was panicked, scared at his absence)

“I’m in here,” he said softly.

Jon shuffled into the room, his eyes widening at the sight of Martin cross-legged on the ground, but some of the tension leaving his body all the same. “What’re you doing?” he asked, his voice rusty with sleep.

“Didn’t want…” he mumbled to the floor, not knowing how to finish the sentence. Jon sat down gingerly beside him, their knees brushing oh-so-slightly.

“I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, it was a bad idea. I’ll take the couch and you can get some sleep-“

Martin shook his head fervently. “No, that’s not what I meant.”

“Well,” he said slowly, leaning against his shoulder, “What do you mean?”

Martin froze, the contact between them burning burning _burning._ He could feel every bone in Jon’s side, the hollow in his rib cage when he breathed, he was so close-

He sucked in a slight gasp but did not move, almost frozen in place. “I…” _Get back,_ he wanted to say, _run as far away from me as possible. Don’t let me in, you’ll only get hurt. I break things. I take beautiful things and make them ugly and you are so very, very beautiful._

Jon gently took his hand, twining their fingers. “Martin- you’re shaking. What’s the matter?”

Could he be honest? With Jon, and with himself?

“I can’t have this,” he blurted out, tilting his head back to look up at the ceiling, his breathing suddenly failing to keep up with his demand for air. _I’ll only mess it all up and I don’t think I can stand losing you, not again._ “I’m sorry, Jon,” he added. His lungs expanded and contracted rapidly, swelling against his ribs painfully. _Why was everything so big and loud?_

Jon shifted against him but didn’t move, staying where he was, leaning into Martin’s side. He couldn’t help but curve gently into the touch. It had been _so long_ , his mind screaming at him the whole time to keep his distance. “What are you talking about?”

The concern in his voice was overpowering. Martin couldn’t breathe, trapped in limbo between a world he was so terrified of yet wanted and a world he knew was safer for all. He closed his eyes, teetering on the brink of falling- falling further for the man at his side or falling into a life of loneliness.

His tongue felt swollen in his mouth, useless as his chest was slowly constricted.

“Martin- breathe. It’s alright, it’s just me. _Breathe._ ” Jon didn’t touch him ( _oh how he longed to reach out and take his hand_ ) but spoke soothingly. “Whatever you need to say can wait. _Breathe._ ”

Pins and needles raced up and down his body, pain prickling his legs. With tremendous effort, Martin took a slow breath.

“That’s it,” Jon encouraged, “Nice and easy.”

_In. Out. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe._ Jon didn’t leave him, soothing his racing mind and heart. His spiraling thoughts halted and soon he could take a lungful of air without feeling like he was gasping. “Thank you,” he managed finally. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“No- I-“ He was on the edge again. With a deep breath, he took the plunge, blindly trusting his voice to carry him on. “You don’t deserve this.”

“Martin, what on _earth_ are you talking about?”

“You don’t deserve to, to be stuck here with _me_. I’ve just made a mess of things and I don’t know how to say the things I’m feeling and thinking, the words just come out wrong, but I _need_ to say them, I need you to understand that I don’t understand-“

Jon cut off his rambling by reaching over and squeezing his hand. “Hey, it’s okay. Look at me, tell me what you see.”

He shivered slightly but looked up, staring into his eyes. “I see- you, Jon.”

“Right.” His voice was impossibly soft. “I’m here. I’m here with you, I’m here _for_ you, so when you find the words, know that you aren’t going to get rid of me that easily.”

A tear dripped off his nose, landing on his jumper. When had he started crying? Jon’s words were reassuring, a blanket of comfort that warmed him to the bone. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I’m not trying to get rid of you, either, I thought you would be trying to get rid of me, honestly.”

His face was baffled when he replied, “Why on earth would you think that?”

Martin didn’t say anything, his heart soaring in the clouds. _Maybe, just maybe, he could have this one thing._

“Can I- can I kiss you?” Jon asked, tentative yet unwavering. He froze, unable to comprehend- _he wants to kiss me_ \- before nodding.

Jon leaned forward, pressing his lips against Martin’s. He was so gentle, hands fluttering at the base of his neck. He pulled back, giving Martin a chance to catch his breath. It wasn’t a passionate thing, but the sheer force of being _wanted_ hit him like a train. His eyes still closed, he pulled Jon into a hug, burying his face in his neck, needing to get as close as physically possible to him.

He was so warm, so soft, Martin wondered how he had managed to push Jon away for so long when he could have had this. “Stay with me?” he asked.

“Come back to bed, Martin, it’s more comfortable there.”

And so, with no room for regret or self-consciousness, he did.

**Author's Note:**

> this is part of a series, i would love it if you checked out my other works for this event!


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